


And Foxes will Lie: The Omitted

by MeikoAtsushi



Series: And Crows will Cry [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Atsumu likes lemons, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Do not read if you were happy with the no explicit content of AFwL, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Switching, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Pls don't read this its fking embarrassing, Top Miya Atsumu, as in real lemons, he likes metaphorical lemons too, kinda porn without plot, the omitted sex from And Foxes will Lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeikoAtsushi/pseuds/MeikoAtsushi
Summary: Sakusa switches his shampoo. Atsumu goes wild.He really likes lemons.Like, actual, physical lemons. You know, the fruit.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: And Crows will Cry [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029528
Comments: 10
Kudos: 215





	And Foxes will Lie: The Omitted

**Author's Note:**

> Reasons why the new chapter of And Crows will Cry is late: This. 
> 
> I don't write smut for my long fics, especially for those like And Foxes will Lie, just because I fear that it will seem WAY out of context, given the plot and backstories. But I had to write this because it's been my head since I finished AFwL, and I might actually die if I don't have it on text. 
> 
> No, you do not have to read AFwL to understand what's going on in this fic. It's literal sex. Porn. 
> 
> Also, the author is downright horrible when it comes to writing explicit content, so. Don't mention it, because I know. I know, but I had to write about it. Don't tell I didn't warn you that I'm very, very bad at writing porn. 
> 
> Ok. Whatever.

“Atsumu,” a shudder, a twitch, a croaked sigh, “wait.”

“Can’t.” The echo of a zipper, fabric against fabric, “Technically yer fault, Omi.”

“I literally _changed my shampoo._ That’s all I did, don’t overre,” Sakusa’s breath hitches as Atsumu’s knee applies pressure on his crotch, “a _ct._ ” He finishes with a meaningful glare shot towards Atsumu. The blonde doesn’t take note of this, and leaves a trail of kisses along Sakusa’s collarbone, his knee unmoving. “You’re a menace.”

“Yer shampoo smells like lemons,” Atsumu’s palm lands on Sakusa’s covered chest, drawing circles as the cloth creased with the repetitive motion, warming the skin underneath. “Like yer fuckin’ testin’ me, Omi. ‘S not like my patience is infinite.” Sakusa jerks when Atsumu’s thumb grazes the nub of his shielded nipple – it doesn’t stay for even a second and travels farther south. “Yer likin’ this.”

“You talk too much,” snaps Sakusa, cupping Atsumu’s chin singlehandedly, their lips joining swiftly next.

It was just shampoo, not a goddamned engagement ring.

_Shampoo._

It’s not like Sakusa was thinking about the potential disastrous consequences of his decision. He knew Atsumu liked lemon-scented products, lemon-flavored snacks, lemons, lemons, and lemons. Sakusa had a jar of lemon lollipops in his apartment because Atsumu insisted that he couldn’t survive a day without consuming at least two of them. His usual brand had a peach-scented type and a lemon-scented type. He went for the latter, because – because why not? Atsumu liked lemons. Sakusa could display affection in his own way, like fixing Atsumu’s necktie, purchasing air refreshener for their car, pulling the triggers Atsumu didn’t want to pull, amongst other ridiculous things. Changing his shampoo was comparatively minute – and yet, this is the wildest Atsumu’s ever been.

He doesn’t understand.

“How do ya want me,” Atsumu is rambling – he rambles a lot. “On top? Under? Fucked? Fucking? Whaddya want? I can give it to ya, shit, I can give it to ya so good,” he fondles with Sakusa’s earlobe, where his scar is hidden. _Take your fucking knee off my balls and I’ll think about it,_ Sakusa wants to retort, but Atsumu is clinging to him desperately, like he needs more. No, he definitely needs more, period. “Actually, I really wanna feel ya. God, Omi, can I? Can I feel ya? Ya feel so fuckin’ great around me an’ I, I might not last just _thinkin’_ ‘bout it, fuck,” Sakusa groans as Atsumu’s weight sinks onto him. He’s hard.

“You were bottom before, so,” Atsumu lights up, “why not.”

“Yer everythin’,” Atsumu kisses his cheekbone and proceeds to unbutton his dress shirt – Sakusa has already wriggled off his blazer and gloves and gets to work with unraveling Atsumu. Sloppy, wet noises resound through Sakusa’s living room, as his garments are tossed aside one by one. “Couch? Bed? Kitchen counter? We haven’t done it in the kitchen yet.”

“Didn’t wipe the counter in a week, so no.”

“So if it _were_ clean, you’d let me.”

“Not today.”

Atsumu grins, “’kay. Gotcha.” Sakusa files away a mental note to disinfect the counter soon. “Ya haven’t answered my question, by the way. Bed or couch?”

“It’s not important.”

“’course it’s important, can’t have ya uncomfortable.”

He’s still not accustomed to this. Being treated like this. By Miya Atsumu, of all people. “The bed.”

Atsumu hums and guides Sakusa into his bedroom, their steps entangled and unsteady. Atsumu’s a quick learner and has a talent of memorizing everything about Sakusa Kiyoomi. Everything. “Ya like it when I touch yer nipples, don’t ya?” And Sakusa resents him for it. Just a little.

“If you’d shut the fuck up for a _second_ ,” Atsumu tips them over on the mattress with a chuckle. He rummages through Sakusa’s bedside drawer for a condom wrapper and a bottle of lotion, the action habitual and well-learned. It’s not like Sakusa had many belongings.

“Patience is crucial, Omi.”

“You claimed earlier that yours wasn’t infinite either.”

Atsumu uncaps the bottle and lets the contents spill over his fingers. Some of it drips onto Sakusa’s abdomen, and he tries not to flinch at the abrupt coldness. “Got more than ya, that’s for certain. I waited ages to fuck ya like this.”

Sakusa bites into his tongue. “That was –“

“I know,” Atsumu shushes him, his coated fingers caressing the region under Sakusa’s armpit, where he’s sensitive. “I didn’t mind. Fuckin’ or no fuckin’, yer a delight.” How Atsumu pronounces ‘delight’ with his Kansai dialect sends tremors straight to Sakusa’s dick. _Shit._ “But what can I say, yer hot like this.” It’s ironic to hear that from Atsumu, to be honest. Atsumu’s lean stature and toned muscles brought professional athletes to shame. The last time they were in this position, Sakusa was atop Atsumu, admiring his gorgeous form as he submitted to Sakusa’s ministrations. It’s different today, the other way around.

“Kiss me,” Sakusa quivers, and the corner of Atsumu’s mouth swerves upward, coy.

“Yer needy.”

“And you’re too garrulous.”

“I’m fun,” but Atsumu sucks on his bottom lip hungrily, and Sakusa melts. A familiar chill trickles onto his chest, as Atsumu fiddles with his nipples lazily, his touches sticky and lukewarm. Sakusa attempts to ignore the feeling, clutching onto Atsumu’s broad shoulders as they make out, gasping and groaning in between for air. Right then, Atsumu plucks on a bud – not too hard, but enough to startle him.

“You’re- _fuh,”_ a twist, “a fucking pain.”

“I dunno what ya mean,” _why are we together? Why the hell are we together?_ But he has no leisure to ponder over an answer, because Atsumu’s palming his boxers, watching Sakusa get harder with each passing second. “Yer wet.”

 _I can feel it, thanks._ “Might as well _do_ something about it, Atsumu.”

“Ya know, when I said that to ya, ya didn’t touch me for thirty minutes.”

Sakusa will gladly beat his past self into Russia if possible. It’s not. He must’ve been wearing a rather troubled expression, because Atsumu bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’m nicer than ya. A lot nicer.” With that, Atsumu hooks his middle finger under the elastic band of Sakusa’s boxers and drags it down so that Sakusa’s erection dribbling with precome is out for both of them to see. “Wow, yer unnaturally eager.”

“Atsumu, _Jesus fucking Christ_.”

“Okay, okay! Can’t ya give yer partner _three seconds_ to savor the moment?”

“Use your time efficiently, we don’t have forever.”

It’s true. Technically, _technically,_ they’re due at the Inarizaki headquarters by two. It’s half past one. Osamu is going to contact him, message him, perhaps even drive to Sakusa’s apartment if they’re over twenty minutes tardy. And besides, they don’t want to incur Kita’s wrath. You don’t want to mess with Kita. “Fine, I gotcha. Geez, can’t believe ya chose _now_ to change yer shampoo. Yer awful.”

“And we’ll have to shower _again_ after this, so move along.”

“’M sure we can make it. Yer the best driver I know.” Atsumu reopens the bottle and squirts out a generous amount of lotion. “Yer gonna tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

“Whatever.”

“C’mon, Omi.”

It’s always like this with Atsumu. Weird – it’s weird. A mere year ago, Sakusa wasn’t aware sex like this was an option for him. Sex where his partner ensured that he was alright, that he was comfortable. Now that it is reality, it feels surreal. “I’ll tell you.”

Atsumu nods. “Good.”

When Sakusa bottoms, Atsumu waits. There are at least ten seconds of absolutely nothing – _motionlessness_ – where Atsumu sits there, his hand drenched in lube as Sakusa lied on the bed. Sakusa knows it’s Atsumu providing him a final opportunity to back out of the arrangement before they start. Once the ten seconds elapse, however, Atsumu unfreezes and hunches his back.

“Aw, fuck,” Atsumu grumbles – his finger prods at Sakusa’s entrance, and then slowly goes in, in, and in. Sakusa turns his head and muffles his breath into his wrist, his other hand clawing at a pillow. “How’re ya so,” the finger curls, the angle acute but effective, as Sakusa’s pulse accelerates rapidly. “I don’t think there’s even a word for it.” _In, out, in,_ pause. Sakusa glowers at Atsumu. “Desperate, Omi?”

“Thought you said,” his throat constricts as Atsumu pulls out, “you were _nicer_.”

“Nicer than ya, sure. Not nice in its full definition.”

“Fuck you, Miya.”

“Ya did _not_ just address me like ya call Samu during our foreplay.”

“I did, too bad.”

Atsumu licks his canine tooth, and Sakusa braces himself for what follows suit. His wrist isn’t sufficient to mute the rumbled groan that escapes him as Atsumu rams two fingers inside, hitting his prostate. “Atsu- _mmph, ah,”_ moans stumble out in succession with Atsumu’s relentless maneuvering, adroit and precise. Heat pools in his stomach, and Sakusa’s back arches off the sheets, “stop, _hah,_ fuck, Atsumu, _stop,”_ and Atsumu doesn’t, of course, but the pace drops a notch.

“Gonna come?”

Sakusa passes him a venomous glare. _Like he doesn’t know that._

“Come for me now, hm?” Atsumu crosses his fingers in his hole, and Sakusa lets out a sultry moan as his joints knock against his tight rim. “I think ya can do it, Omi.”

“No, wait,” Sakusa protests, but it’s rather futile and he realizes it – because a third finger is inserted, driving Sakusa into a state of blissful oblivion.

“Fuck, yer pretty.” Atsumu climbs over him to kiss the moles on his forehead, his fingers gliding in and out, “Ya hear that, don’t ya?” The lotion and squelching noises echo throughout the room, blending in with Sakusa’s gasps and grunts. “So wet, Omi. So fuckin’ soft, so fuckin’ warm. I can watch ya do this for an eternity. I bet you’d enjoy that.”

“Atsu- _mu_ , ngh, _ah, fuck, fuck –“_

“Comin’, baby?” While Sakusa would normally strangle Atsumu for even uttering a syllable of that pet name, he’s too gone to give a shit. And Atsumu’s a piece of trash because he’s taking advantage of that. “Come for me, Omi.”

And Sakusa lets go, on command, doesn’t think, doesn’t argue – as strings of white paint his chest, dirtying the transparent lotion. Atsumu continues to finger him through his orgasm, watching him come with a grin plastered on his face. _So vain,_ Sakusa internally rolls his eyes. Belatedly, Sakusa rasps, “Don’t call me ‘baby.’”

“No promises.”

Sakusa squints at him, and then at Atsumu’s dick. He probably stripped his boxers at some point. He’s erect, as he should be – and huge. “Atsumu,” the man perks up, “lie down.”

“Wuh?”

“Lie down.”

“I kinda liked bossin’ ya around,” but Atsumu hops onto the bed and lies flat on his back. “What, ya gonna ride me? ‘M happy with that, too.”

“No.”

Sakusa readjusts his posture and lodges himself between Atsumu’s legs – he’s still recovering from his previous orgasm. He’s never done this before, but, well. There’s a first to everything.

Atsumu blinks at him, once, twice, and then his pupils dilate almost comically when it strikes him. “Wait, wait, wait, _wait_ ,” Sakusa halts mid-descension and frowns. “What’s, what, _Kiyoomi_ , hold the _fuck_ up.” He does, because when Atsumu calls him Kiyoomi, that indicates how frantic he is.

“You don’t want it?”

Atsumu sounds like he’s dying. “ _No,_ ‘course I do, ‘m not crazy! Just, why, I thought –“

“Breathe.”

Inhale, exhale, and inhale. “Ya don’t hafta, y’know,” Atsumu finally formulates a coherent sentence, or as coherent he can be with a hard dick, “ya said ya don’t… like to. Before.”

He had. He avoided blowjobs as much as he could. But, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to, Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s irises waver. “… Ya mean it, right?”

 _(“I’m askin’ ‘cause ya deserve to be treated that way. Not just ya, but anyone.”_ )

“I mean it.”

There’s a soft edge to Atsumu’s expression. They both reel in for a kiss – a proper one, not frenzied nor clumsy. He remembers their first “kiss” at Itachiyama’s headquarters, where Sakusa had been imprisoned. Atsumu’s moist, plump lips were on his mask, passionate and fervent. “I love ya.” Sakusa snorts. “Oh, hush. I’m bein’ romantic for once.”

“You’re bad at it.”

Atsumu puffs his cheeks and pouts. “I wanna watch ya, so ‘m not gonna lie down.”

“Do as you wish.”

In the end, Atsumu uses his hands to support himself, seated upright. Sakusa kneels on the floor and the blonde shifts to the foot of the mattress, his legs spread and planted to the marble tiles. His length points in a curve, and Sakusa gazes at it for a while – it’s red and throbbing – and swirls his tongue around the girth of Atsumu’s cock. “Shit, Omi.” He hums and licks Atsumu from root to head, which rips out a content groan. The fragrance of Sakusa’s lavender soap and the earthy musk of Atsumu’s bodily scent causes Sakusa to flinch as well.

He nips at the tip, and then wraps his mouth around it, “Hah, fuck, this can’t be _real_ ,” Atsumu whispers, “yer not plannin’ on dyin’ soon, are ya? Or am I dyin’?”

“Neither,” his response comes out incomprehensible with Atsumu large in his mouth, but the man gets him. _Why the hell is he big and long,_ it’s a dilemma. He persists, though, taking as much as he can – he has no gag reflex, which is fortunate. His uvula bobs against the crown of Atsumu’s dick, and he swallows dry air.

“Can I,” Sakusa flutters up at Atsumu, who appears to almost lose his sanity at the act. “Fuck, ya look so goddamned good, yer mouth stuffed with my, _mmn,”_ with a chuckle, he sweeps his fringes back, “keep doin’ that and I’mma forget everythin’ I was ‘bout to tell ya, Omi.”

_Fantastic, you’re too loud._

“Oh, that’s exactly what ya want. Damn, yer a little shit. A-ah, Omi? Omi, fuck, can I fuck yer mouth?”

He doesn’t like it when Atsumu asks him for permission. There’s no chance of him refusing. At all. He nods, and Atsumu cusses quietly, and Sakusa hums around Atsumu when the latter’s nails dig into his scalp, grabbing a fistful of his curls. Without warning, his head aligns at eye level with Atsumu’s pelvis, and, “ _Mmf,”_ tears spring to his eyes as the protruding vessels of Atsumu’s member brush the ceiling of his mouth over and over, ruthless.

“Omi, Omi, Omi, _Omi_ ,” Atsumu repeats his name like a mantra, sweet and scorching hot to his eardrums. He’s convinced that it’s not going to end, that Atsumu’s never going to climax, and is slightly astonished by how he’s _okay_ with that, his senses assaulted with the entirety of Miya Atsumu.

And then – Atsumu pulls away.

_What –_

“I wanna come in ya,” the man’s hand cups his jaw, slick with his drool. Sakusa blinks at him, rendered speechless. “Can’t have ya doin’ all the work.” He pulls Sakusa up again, and he collapses onto Atsumu’s muscular build with an ‘oof.’ “Ready to be born again?”

“That’s freaky.”

“It sounded better in my head, I swear.”

A chortle bubbles up from his lungs at that. He places a feathery kiss on Atsumu’s nose. “Just fuck me.”

Atsumu beams, “A’ight.” He flips him over with much practiced dexterity, his hands gripping Sakusa’s waist, lifting him a couple centimeters from the silk blankets. Sakusa hugs a square cushion and swallows a deep, shuddering breath in anticipation. “Laid out for me like this,” a whimper crawls up from his sternum, and Sakusa has to wield it in with all his might. “Prim and enrapturin’, so fuckin’ pretty. A whole meal. Will I ever need food when I have ya?”

“Put it _in_ , for god’s sake –“ a scream tears from the depth of his ribs, his spine snapping into a perfect arc, and he can _sense_ Atsumu’s sneer in his bones, in the vibrating particles of the atmosphere, Atsumu filling him, threatening to overflow. “ _Ah, mm, shit,”_ his field of vision whitens as he swivels to Atsumu.

“What? I put it in.”

“Some warning would be _appreciated_.”

“Demandin’.”

 _Someone give me a cancellation form for this relationship._ He battles for oxygen, pumping his lungs, his heart, struggling to recover from the shock. Atsumu distracts him by stroking his erection up and down, hovering over him. “Sorry, did it hurt?” He sucks on the back of Sakusa’s neck apologetically. “I was riled up, my bad. Didn’t mean to surprise ya like that.”

“I’m fine. Just- give me a second.” _One, two, three. One, two, three._ “Okay.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t.” They meet eyes, and something flickers in Atsumu. “I want you rough.” He scowls, “I didn’t tell you to get bigger.”

“ _It’s outta my control_!”

“Be quick,” the digital clock reads five before two, “Kita-san might slaughter us.”

“Can ya not talk about Kita-san when my penis is inside yer ass?”

“Move.”

Tension. Silence. A chill ventures down his backbone – the time where one had to fear Atsumu was not when he was holding a gun to your temple, not when he was blabbering on about how he could kill you with a single headshot, but when he was pin-drop silent, wordless, completely inaudible.

_Yes, yes, yes –_

Atsumu pulls out, and then _unfurls –_ Sakusa’s swollen lip is squashed into the pillow, his body racking and involuntarily jerking under the pressure, the sheer force of Atsumu – “ya take me so well, Omi, fuck, so well,” – Sakusa doesn’t recognize the noises spilling from his mouth, high-pitched and throaty, saturated in pleasure. “Cry for me, Omi.”

“A-ah, tsu _mmfu_ , _hng_ ,” _please, fuck, please,_ “wanna come, wanna come so fucking bad, _fuck_ –“ Atsumu complies, instantaneously giving him what he needs, what he’s begging for. Atsumu attacks that bundle of nerves, bulls-eye, and, “close, I’m,” he can’t even speak without another string of cries interrupting him, overwhelming and fire. “Atsumu, _Atsu_ ,” and the climax is a blur, all too soon, rippling through Kiyoomi violently – jitters waltz through his vessels, thrusting ‘ _ah’_ s and ‘ _hm’_ s out of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t clench around me like that, I might bust a fuckin’ nut inside ya,” Atsumu slaps his side in panic. “I forgot to put on a condom, _Omi._ ”

 _I can’t believe you say that now._ “You’re an idiot.”

“I know. Forgive me.”

Whatever, it’s not like he remembered, either. “You didn’t come yet.”

Atsumu smiles meekly. “One more round?”

“Wear a condom.”

“Yessir.”

Kita’s three-hour long lecture is promised at this rate. They might as well not go to work at all.

“I’ll go slow,” Atsumu rips the package with his teeth, rolling it over his length. “Yer sensitive everywhere, aren’t ya?” He is. He doesn’t think he’d be able to drive after this, more or less shower.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine. But you liked it.”

_Vain, vain, vain._

He’s fallen for the vainest man on the planet.

It’s probably his fault.

“I wanna see yer face,” whines Atsumu, and Sakusa lets out an exasperated sigh. Eventually, he musters up the remnants of his stamina and lies out for his partner, in a daze and overstimulated. He hisses when Atsumu does as little as to caress the pale, inner skin of his thigh to probe him open once more. “Yer doin’ wonderful, Omi,” Atsumu encourages, kissing Sakusa’s knuckles. “I can probably come without even movin’.”

“Do that, then.”

“No way, that’d be a crime.”

_We’re both criminals already, what difference does it make?_

He wraps his limbs around Atsumu as the latter towers over him, droplets of sweat from strands of hair drizzling from above. He’d find it gross only if they hadn’t done grosser things prior to this. Pleasure tinged with pain permeates his body as Atsumu enters him for the second time, and Sakusa regards it as a miracle that he still has anything left in him – he’s ejaculated twice, holy shit. “Might die if ya do that again,” Atsumu’s grin is nervous. “Clenching around me like that. Death.”

“Like,” with a sly leer, he clenches, “that?”

An extensive, broken groan explodes from Atsumu, as his arms wobble. “I think yer takin’ me _too_ well.”

“I just want you to fucking come.”

“That I can do, but ya gotta cooperate, c’mon. I can’t move like this.” A sigh of relief tickles his bangs as he loosens up. “Better. Ya almost killed me.”

“That was my intention, _ah,”_ the pace is irritably slow, which makes everything worse by tenfold. All existing nerves in him feel as if they are set aflame, blazing, and burning. _Fucking come,_ he grasps the bed covers determinedly, his walls tightening around Atsumu, as the man moans aloud, hiking to his limit. Their movements become erratic, as Atsumu barely reigns in his strength while fucking him through and through – Sakusa throws his arm around Atsumu’s neck and mutters _‘Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu,’_ like a malfunctioning record. Atsumu’s orgasm arrives the next second, a wrangled _Kiyoomi_ pouring from his puckered lips, his pupils blown and his orbs practically black.

“My definition of sex has experienced a revolution after meetin’ ya.”

Sakusa is too exhausted to reply with a witty, sardonic comment. “We should shower.”

“Can’t we just call Kita-san that we were ambushed by the enemy?”

“What enemy?”

“I dunno, some enemy.”

“Fat chance.”

“Fuck. This is all ‘cause ya switched yer brand of shampoo, Omi, why the heck didja do that?”

“Oh, the blame’s on me, now?”

“Ya _smelled_ like ya needed to get wrecked, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, _not do it,_ maybe.”

Atsumu kicks like a five-year-old toddler. “ _Omiiiii_.”

“When Kita-san asks us why we’re late, we’re saying it’s your fault.”

“I can’t believe ya would just betray me like this. I gave ya the most magnificent dickin’ of yer life.”

“You can’t be too sure of that.”

Eerie silence. “What do ya mean I can’t be too sure of that?” Exclaims Atsumu, “Omi, I want an explanation!”

“I’m using the shower first.”

“ _Sakusa Kiyoomi_!”

And foxes will lie.

###

“They’re taking a while.” Akagi steals a wary glimpse at the clock, “I wonder if something happened? What if there was an enemy attack? A raid? Crap, what if they’re –“

“Mating season,” Osamu chimes in, “it’s mating season, Akagi-san.”

Kita sips his green tea.

“Let’s commence the meeting, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during And Crows will Cry, FYI.


End file.
